"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"Praying," Mark whispered. "Now quiet down." Mark lowered the kneeling bench, and indicated for me to do likewise. The minister was going on about the lamb of god, up by the altar.

"Mark, I'm a Catholic!" I whispered. "I could go to hell just for being here."

Mark sighed. "Tyler, this is a Lutheran church, not a satanic service run by Charlie Manson's thrill kill cult. Heck, I visited a Mormon tabernacle last week."

"What?!?"

"It's true. That thing about them on South Park a few weeks ago got me curious."

"You…a Mormon…" I clucked my tongue. "You know that you'd have to give up, well, everything that you like, right?"

"You see, Tyler, that's a common misconception. They're not ascetic people…"

"No coffee, Mark. No booze."

"No booze? Huh, I may have to check my notes again… Say, I think we're disturbing things a bit, gabbing on like this. Let's get out of here."

We rose, and clunked the kneeling benches back in their upright position. As we talked up the aisle, I saw an old lady glaring at us. Mark stepped over to her, clasped her hand, and said, "Mark Hugo! I'm running for President. Damn glad to meet you!"

"Funny that you should bring that up in a diner, but it's all quite calculated, really."

I motioned to our heftily gorgeous waitress for more coffee. "Do tell."

"Remember how we were talking last month about repackaging me as a radical candidate?"

"This is radical? Going to church? Heck, you're turning into an Osmond."

"Karl says Ned Flanders," Mark said through a mouthful of hash. "Anyway, I was thinking about what is radical these days. Think about it for a sec. Can you think of any 'radical' movement of the past century that hasn't been co-opted by MTV, or before MTV Dick Clark? We live in a society where boy-band-style punk groups wear anarchy symbols, where hippies are a punch line, where Gene Simmons' face paint is an anachronistic icon, and where Justin Timberlake thinks he's one of the Black Panthers. What am I supposed to do to top that? Join the S.L.A.?"

I toyed with my eggs. "Well, I was proposing that we kind of make you an amalgamation of it all…y'know, appeal to all the alienated voters at once."

"No, that wouldn't work. When you have Bill Clinton tell people that he was the first black president, and Baptist churches continue to take him seriously…all bets for shock value or further co-opting these themes are off."

"And so you propose?"

"That I begin cranking country music and quoting the Bible."

"Have you ever even read any of the Bible?" I asked.

"I'm serious! The whole Elmer Gantry, Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show, speaking-in-tongues bit."

"And you see this as radical?"

"Sure! It's the only thing that I haven't seen on MTV in the past month. And, having lost my job at the diploma factory, boy, have I had a lot of time to sit at home watching MTV! Remember what Johnny Cash said. 'There's a man going 'round taking names, and he decides who to free and who to blame.' Well, the man hasn't come around yet, so I have to get busy, Tyler."

"Man, the opening credits of Dawn of the Dead really did affect you..."

Mark pounded back his coffee and waved for more. "Only America's soul, buddy. Now focus on the campaign, and stop getting distracted by my lofty speech." Mark clasped his chest solemnly. "You are my campaign manager, aren't you? Now act like it. We'll have to re-do all of those leaflets, and order new buttons, and…"

"But I just dropped a thousand dollars of my own money on those leaflets! We haven't even given any out yet!"

"And they were great," Mark assured me, patting my hand, "But we need something with some Christian clip art."

I shook my head. "Oh, Jesus…"

Mark snapped his fingers excitedly. "That's it! Our new Slogan! Now we're going to need those ready by April fifteenth…tax day…"

"Why?"

"I plan to reveal my discovery of a giant conspiracy between the I.R.S., F.E.M.A, and the papists on tax day." He grinned maniacally. "Sorry for the papist jab, Tyler."

Mark got the waitress' attention with his eyebrows and a quick head nod. "Say, what time do you start serving cocktails here on Sundays? Now? Wonderful. Let me see, I think I'll start with…"

Well, at least some things never change.

THE MARK HUGO ARCHIVE
The Article That Started it All - Mark's Gubernatorial Campaign Announcement.

Bad Night in The Bunker - Strategy Gone Awry.

Strike A Pose - Image Consultancy in the Post-Carville Era.

An All Time Low.

A Tape Transcript.

Mark's Gubernatorial Concession Speech.

The Beginnings of Mark's Presidential Campaign.

Angry Sports, Elmer Gantry, and Freedom Fries.

Orange Alert, Again.

Mermaid Parade Invitational.

American Idols.

The First Parade.

Independence Day.

California Dreamin'.

Where Do You Go When the Lights Go Out?

DER GOVERNATORRR!

the dossiers...

Everybody Needs a Campaign Song

We Have Nothing to Fear, But...

A Radical Departure

Please email your support and suggestions to: tyler@greathoboes.com. Remember, vote early, and vote often!

Tyler M. Carey
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, The Great Hoboes of New York
Apparent Campaign Manager, Mark Hugo for President '04 Campaign